


A Shocking Affair

by fanfic_roulette



Category: Historical RPF, Literary RPF
Genre: Fanfic roulette, Light Bondage, M/M, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:29:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfic_roulette/pseuds/fanfic_roulette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>F. Scott Fitzgerald hit his radio again, “Shit.”</p><p>The static continued to buzz through the living room of his apartment in Paris.</p><p>“Ernest you know how to fix radios, right?” Scott asked.</p><p>“Yes I do,” Ernest looked at him over his scotch.</p><p>“Well, can you take a look at this?”</p><p>“I suppose,” Ernest reluctantly stood up, crossed the room, and started inspecting the radio.</p><p>Scott watched him work, turned on by the rippling muscles displayed by Ernest’s undershirt as he tinkered with the device.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shocking Affair

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the product of a drunken collaborative effort that we have called fanfic roulette. Starting with a set of four prompts randomly selected from a list that we had generated, a five-person group took three-minute turns writing sections of this piece. Full disclaimer: we were drunk, not everyone necessarily knew the pairing or fandom, and it wasn’t always entirely clear what was going on. With that in mind, please enjoy.

F. Scott Fitzgerald hit his radio again, “Shit.”

The static continued to buzz through the living room of his apartment in Paris.

“Ernest you know how to fix radios, right?” Scott asked.

“Yes I do,” Ernest looked at him over his scotch.

“Well, can you take a look at this?”

“I suppose,” Ernest reluctantly stood up, crossed the room, and started inspecting the radio.

Scott watched him work, turned on by the rippling muscles displayed by Ernest’s undershirt as he tinkered with the device.

Ernest paused to take a sip of his scotch. “Well, I think I know what the problem is. I just need to…” Ernest leaned forward and fiddled with a wire, and then

“OUCH!”

Ernest jumped back, hair singed from the electric shock he had just created. As he fell backwards, he knocked his glass of scotch off of the table, causing it to spill across his white t-shirt.

Scott tried to hide the fact that he was staring.

“Good lord,” he stammered, jumping to his feet and stumbling across the room towards his prone companion. “Ernest--Ernest my dear, are you quite all right?”

“Fine,” Ernest grunted, sitting up and examining his sopping undershirt with distaste. “And don’t call me dear, Fitz.”

“Sorry,” Scott muttered, trying to divert his eyes from the sheer spectacle of Ernest’s chest muscles. “Um...would you like another shirt?”

“Eh,” Ernest shrugged, grabbing the hem of his undershirt and pulling it off without further ado. “I can make do without. A real man needs no shirt.”

“Indeed,” Scott replied faintly, watching Ernest toss the ruined garment onto the floor where it lay pathetically beside a tangle of detached radio wires. Wires, Scott thought suddenly, that would look mighty fine wrapped around Ernest’s burly wrists…

Scott shook himself out of his fantasies to find Ernest staring at him, his eyes wide and suddenly darker than they had been moments before. Scott swallowed hard. He was rooted to the spot, and could only watch as Ernest took a tentative step, then another, in his direction, their eyes never breaking contact. In seconds, they were inches apart, and Scott could feel the heat radiating off Ernest’s bare chest, could smell the faint odor of the scotch that had spilled, and his mind reeled as Ernest leaned in and kissed him. 

Scott kissed him back, gently, but then took a step away, looking deep into his dark eyes. The same thoughts went through both their minds at once, and Ernest rushed to lock the door as Scott lowered the shades, lowering himself onto the couch, Ernest suddenly above him, shirtless and damp. He kissed him roughly, now his full weight lowering onto Scott as he moaned gently, Ernest now kissing his neck and collarbone while simultaneously undoing his shirt. His skin was sticky on his chest as they gyrated together, paperbacks getting wedged into the couch and pieces of paper fluttering off the side table that Scott gripped, white-knuckled, as Ernest undid his zipper and pulled off his trousers. As he stood to get them off, he eyed the old electrical wire.

Scott caught his gaze on the wires, and locked eyes once Ernest looked back at him. He smirked. “Shall we?” Scott grabbed a wire and tested the strength. 

“Quite.”


End file.
